What You Leave Behind
by Ava Chanel
Summary: Asha; translated to mean 'life'. However, this child, so aptly named, would forever be haunted by the life she stole…BBRae, character death.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _Something I have been working on after I received a few requests/questions regarding my thoughts and opinions on BBRae and kids. There's going to be a part two and that's it; no happy ending here, though. Just a lot of sadness. You've been warned._

* * *

 **What You Leave Behind**

* * *

The ones with the purple flowers.

She pointed at the pair of boots with a little index finger, her hand nearly swallowed by the baggy sleeve of her matching raincoat.

Always purple.

It was her favourite color; Garfield never needed to hear it said to know.

He bent down, his back curving as he crouched low. Her arm instinctively went to rest along his spine, balancing on one leg as she stuck out her little foot, frilly pink socks and all, and wiggled her toes in anticipation.

Her feet looked funny when they weren't bare.

Garfield always preferred to be barefoot in the house, and thus, she did, too.

He slid the booties on with minimal struggle, making sure they were nice and snug.

She wiggled her foot again, but the plastic of the coating made it hard to notice.

"Other foot," he instructed, his eyes downcast.

She placed both hands onto his back this time, and kicked up her leg. There was a bit more struggle this time, but nothing his strong hands couldn't accomplish.

Once shoes were on, he turned to scan her with tired, fatherly eyes. He brought his hands to the hood of her coat, and raised it over her head, tucking strands of her dark hair beneath the hem while tightening the material about her face. Her mouth disappeared beneath the zipper, and she regarded her father with large, deep green eyes, unblinking.

Garfield sighed; he was always tired in the mornings.

Sometimes, she wondered if he'd even get up at all if he didn't have to take her to school.

There were shadows to his face, a gauntness to his cheeks, and dark circles beneath his eyes.

Tired.

Garfield patted her shoulders down, seemingly content with his handiwork. He stood up to his full height, until all she could see was the worn-out, brown belt to his faded jeans.

She played with her jacket zipper, sticking the tip of her tongue out to taste the cold, metallic flavor of it before recoiling in disgust.

Keys jingling, jacket on. He slipped his shoes on and made for the door.

She tugged at his hand, pulling him back.

"What is it, Asha?" He sighed, exasperated with her already.

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, her skin changing in answer.

She had to focus, but she could do it all the way now.

The pallor of her complexion changed to that of an emerald green instead.

" _Shit_ ," he cursed under his breath, leaving his keys in the lock while he ran his hand through his shaggy, unkempt hair.

He went to the table situated by their shoe rack, and rummaged in the bowl full of random odds and ends until he found what he was looking for; the titanium ring that Victor had gifted him years ago. He never used to use it as much as he did now.

Garfield slid it onto his right pinky finger, and turned it on so that the little blue gems twinkled with light.

Immediately, Asha was granted the sight of her father, or what he would have looked like, had he been entirely human.

His hair changed from pine green to an ashen blonde, his skin pigmentation turning as fair as her own. No more fangs, no more pointy ears.

Without the necessary focus, Asha regained her normal complexion, too busy staring up into the comforting face of her father, fascinated by both the strangeness, and familiarity, of his features.

His brows, thick and heavy, remained furrowed, and his lips were pursed. She tried mimicking the expression on his face, but he didn't pay her any attention. Instead, he opened the door and headed out into the downpour.

Like any other child her age, Asha loved the rain.

She loved the puddles, loved the splashing, loved the smell of it in the air.

When Garfield was in a better mood, he'd often smile at her, and tell her how her mother hadn't been any different.

Of course, Asha had a hard time envisioning her mom making mud pies until her fingers were caked with dirt. She also didn't think she'd have been as appreciative of her daughter bringing her earthworms as presents.

Good thing her father could turn into one, so he had no qualms about it.

However, today, Garfield didn't have the patience to wait on Asha enjoying the rain. She looked up towards the endless grey heavens, and stuck out her tongue until she could taste a few droplets.

"Asha, _let's go_!"

She snapped to attention, making out the pinched face of her father in the distance as he waited for her to join him. His flaxen hair was already matted to his face, and the water had dribbled into his fair lashes, making him squint.

However, the rain had Asha in good spirits, as it so often did, and she ran on her shorter legs towards him without a fight.

Garfield shuffled along to the car quickly, eager to escape the cold, wet weather of the autumn season.

He opened the passenger door and ushered Asha in. She was short, so she had to practically climb into the seat. As she tugged on the seatbelt, the door was shut, and all she could hear was the water pouring onto the car, and the wind whistling past.

Her father joined her not long after, and Asha removed her hood to wipe at the few soaked strands of her hair. She watched him start the car, watched him turn on the wipers, all the while he never looked at her.

Today was not a good day.

Today, she was reminding him of her mother.

Maybe when she was older, she'd be able to change into someone else. Someone different. Someone her father could tolerate looking at.

Instead, Asha turned to stare glumly out her window, chin resting in the palm of her hand while she drew squiggles into the fog of the glass. The little droplets rolled down, like gemstones in the shape of tears.

The car ride was quiet, but Garfield turned on the radio to the news station, and the monotone, adult voices droned on in the background, to the steady thump of the windshield wipers doing their job.

Uncle Stone had reassured her that there used to be a day when her daddy hadn't been so dry and boring. The Garfield Logan _he_ had known had been both an obnoxious dancer and singer. He'd loved turning the radio on to the happiest, upbeat tunes, and often sang along horribly off tune while performing cheesy dance moves in the seat of his car.

Asha spared her father a side glance.

Garfield appeared morose, his hard eyes focused on the road, his mouth a tight line.

There would be no dancing and singing today, nor would he change the station to something they could both enjoy.

Instead, there would be rain, and the painful reminder of what she was.

Of what she'd done.

What she'd _stolen_.

Asha drew a heart, and then wiped it away angrily with the cuff of her sleeve. Tears burned the back of her eyes, and yet again, how she wished her voice box hadn't come broken.

...

* * *

She was angry with him by the time they'd gotten to the school.

It was obvious in the way she pouted, folded her little arms over her chest, and avoided looking at him. Her dark brows were furrowed, and her green eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

Guilt, an all too familiar friend to Garfield, consumed him.

It hurt, seeing her this way, and he was almost compulsive in wishing to cheer her up.

She looked just like _her_ , especially when she frowned, or grew grumpy and irritable with him.

Asha stood by the entrance, looking glum in her shiny, purple rain coat. She kept her hood down in defiance, and each time he'd bring it over her ears, she'd be quick to take it off, mussing up her half-ponytail in the process.

Eventually, Garfield grew annoyed with her fit, and he huffed through his nostrils while fixing her with a chastising glare. "Quit it," he warned.

Asha took the hood off again, and glared back.

Gar sighed for the umpteenth time that day, proceeding to rub at the tired in his face, clearly not in the mood for a fight so early in the morning. "Listen, I'm sorry if I've been a grouch today, but I had a…rough night."

Asha's expression softened, the sharp angles of her childish features becoming gentle curves instead.

She understood. It was no excuse by any measure, but she understood.

Garfield spared her an apologetic smile, his fingers coming up to comb through the silken strands of her fine hair. "I'll make it up to you after school," he promised, fixing the tangled mess her wet hair had become.

His thick fingers worked diligently and with affection.

Asha, as always, remained silent.

The bell could be heard in the distance, and Garfield stood up, taking his daughter's hand in his own. It was warm and soft and safe. She felt like she could take on the world with her father by her side.

Starfire had once told her that she was lucky to have such a good dad; her mother hadn't been so fortunate in the matter.

Uncle Grayson had been quick to point out that, maybe, that was one of the many reasons Garfield had changed her mom's mind…

Garfield led her towards the old, towering building, its red bricks even darker when soaked with rain. They both dashed up the steps while other kids and their parents bustled about beneath their colourful umbrellas, chit chatting like class had not just started.

Garfield spared a few of the mothers a flash of a smile when they caught sight of him, and Asha wondered if he knew what they said about him behind his back.

Even now, although they returned the notion, they still managed to glance over at his daughter with a hint of pity, and something more sinister, in their eyes.

 _Poor thing._

 _What's it like, living with the very creature that murdered his wife?_

 _I don't think I could do what he does; he's a brave man._

 _A true tragedy he's still single._

 _I asked him out for coffee once, but he refused. Something about not wanting to rush into anything._

 _Hasn't the girl's mother been dead for several years now?_

She tuned them out; she always tuned them out. Their words were hurtful and mean, and if she listened, she'd only become enraged. She always had to be wary of rage.

Once they were both inside the school, Garfield shook the water out of his hair, getting a few drops in Asha's face, and she giggled inaudibly as it splashed against her cheeks.

"Woops! Sorry. Old habits," he explained with a shrug, but it was the first time all morning he'd appeared less tense. "Better hurry, or you'll be late."

Asha nodded, and the two of them sped down the hallway, hand in hand, the echo of their wet shoes against the tiles the loudest thing in her ears.

When they reached the classroom, Asha's teacher was already there, and a few kids were busy taking off their jackets and backpacks, hanging them up in the cubby on the side of the room.

"Good morning, Mr. Logan, Asha," she greeted them, wearing her trademark smile, her ruby red lips glistening in the light of the room. "How was your weekend?"

Women had a bad habit of flirting with Asha's father.

She'd have been concerned, only Garfield was already good at shutting them down. How many of them would still be itching to date him if they ever found out what he _really_ looked like? Asha couldn't bear the thought; only one woman had been good enough for her dad, and she was…

"Gone too soon," Garfield announced with a toothy grin.

Asha had dashed over to the cubby that had her name on it, and proceeded to remove her backpack and jacket.

"Did the two of you get up to anything exciting?"

Garfield shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets and rocking on his heels. "Hardly, but I've been thinking of enrolling Asha in some fun extracurricular activities. Like ballet, or something. "

"Oh, ballet is _great_! I bet she'd really enjoy that. Have you considered any music classes?"

Asha came to stand between them, looking up at the adults with mild interest as they discussed her like she wasn't even there. Judging by Ms. Harrison's body language, she liked Asha's father. She kept tucking a stray, strawberry blond curl from her carefully styled coiffure behind her ear, and adjusting her black rimmed glasses.

Garfield was too busy looking at his daughter to care. "Piano, Asha? Or something else, like violin?"

She liked the sound of ballet, but one look at her stubby feet and she didn't feel overly confident. When silence pervaded between the three of them, Ms. Harrison resumed her chipper nature to compensate. "Not to worry; I'm sure you'll find something." She waved her hand dismissively.

By now, most kids were at their desks, restless and rowdy; a key sign that Ms. Harrison had other responsibilities to attend to.

She quickly turned her attention to her students, clapping her hands to quiet them down and ensure that they were sitting still in their seats.

Garfield took this opportunity to give his daughter a good-bye kiss before departing. He'd crouched down so that he was face-to-face with her, wiped her bangs from her eyes, and placed his cool lips tenderly over the centre of her forehead. "Be good, little mouse. I'll come to pick you up after school," he told her with a light-hearted smile, patting the top of her head with his hand. The lines around his mouth, although faint, helped remind Asha that, once upon a time, he'd been a happy man.

He tucked some of her hair behind her ear, and Asha threw her little arms around his neck in a fierce hug. He smelled like soap and sweat, and everything comforting she'd ever known. Garfield rubbed her back gingerly and just like that, all was forgiven.

* * *

Asha was quiet.

Of course, she'd been born quiet.

Garfield had told her that, when she'd come into the world, she'd scared the doctors, for there were no cries or screams like the other babies when they'd been forced out of the womb. They'd thought she was stillborn; something he explained meant born dead, only in nicer terms. The doctors, diligent as they were, had done everything to stimulate her; tickled her feet, pricked her with needles, and anything else they could think of to no avail. Even though there had been tears in her eyes, Asha had never made a sound.

Only after the test results came back did they realize that her voice box was broken.

She'd never speak a word.

However, Asha was so used to being silent, that she hardly communicated, even in other ways. She, of course, knew sign language; her father had taught her at an early age. As she'd been told by the plethora of people who knew him, Garfield was a man of many talents; one of which was his gift with speech. Unlike her, he could pick up on and speak multiple languages as easily as if he'd grown up with them. Sign language had come to him just the same.

Not that it mattered; Asha didn't use it unless absolutely necessary. Her reluctance, paired with her introverted nature, left Asha somewhat isolated from her peers. Most of them did not know sign language and thus, conversations were often one-sided. Asha easily fell into the category of outcast and loner when at school, and she simply did not have the patience to change this, despite the insistence and persuasion of her teachers.

Yet, even though Asha may not have had friends in her class, it did not mean she was entirely friendless.

There was always Mar'i Grayson.

Asha had a friend in Uncle Richard and Aunt Kory's daughter.

There was a bit of an age gap between the two girls, as Asha's parents had supposedly lagged in the romance department. Whilst Starfire and Dick were well established and on their way to marriage, Asha's own parents had only just realized their feelings for one another.

"It happened at the engagement party, actually, little mouse. I wish you could have been there…to say she knocked the air right out of my lungs would have been an understatement…like, I was seeing her for the first time, and yet, I may as well have been greeting an old friend…"

Asha always loved whenever her father would talk about her mother.

A look of serene peace often filled his features, his eyes glazing over in memory, and his lips in a loose, wistful smile.

"There were webs of spangled stars in her hair that night…glittering little diamonds in a violet sky. It was so long ago, but I won't ever forget thinking; man, is she _ever_ out of my league."

Absent-mindedly, Garfield would run his fingers through his daughter's hair, so much like her mother's. Normally, she'd hated it when he'd muss it up, but when he would be thinking of _her_ , she never had the heart to make him stop.

Still, despite Garfield's recognition in that moment at Dick and Kory's engagement party all those years ago, nothing had truly transpired between him and Raven until much later. Which was why Mar'i had a good four to five years on Asha.

It did not, however, negate their close friendship in the slightest; in Mar'i, Asha had found a kindred spirit. Someone just as strange and misunderstood as her. They both often stood apart from the other children in their classes, being raised differently, and coming from homes where strangeness was customary. Thus, Mar'i did not judge Asha for her otherworldly mannerisms. Her mother, Starfire, was an alien after all.

So what if Asha could alter the colour of her skin, hair, and eyes? Mar'i could _fly_.

However, all of that was doomed to change the day Asha accidentally stumbled upon her full potential.

"Dick invited us over for dinner tonight. Bet you wanna see little Mar'i again, huh?" Garfield was smiling, but he hadn't posed it as an option.

He'd already driven past their home street, and Asha practically jumped in her seat with excitement. It made Garfield chuckle, seeing her so giddy. "Yeah, I figured as much. I think Kory said she's been asking about you, too."

Asha kicked up her feet to an imaginary tune playing in her head, wishing more than ever that she could verbalize her joy to her father.

Nonetheless, she remained in good spirits all the way to the Grayson's house. She practically skipped down their driveway after they'd parked, leaving Garfield behind as he fiddled with his car keys.

"Don't ring the doorbell yet, Asha!" He'd tried calling after her, but he'd been a moment too late.

She'd already reached up on her tip toes and pressed the shiny button. More than a couple of times. She could hear her father groaning in the distance even as he walked up to join her.

She turned to give him a cunning smile that could have rivalled his own and, although he was mildly embarrassed by her impish nature, he couldn't help but also find it amusing.

"What am I going to do with you, little mouse?" He shook his head, stuffing his hands into his jean pockets, but there was a hint of a smile wearing at the corners of his mouth.

Garfield had dubbed her with the pet name years ago, because of the way she liked to burrow whenever she was scared, or avoiding him, and when she'd wanted to shirk any responsibilities, too. Asha was so small, that she would often fit into the tiniest nooks and crannies, especially when she'd been a toddler. Garfield would often have to shift into the size of a green mouse just to find her.

It took her a while, but she eventually came to like the affectionate nickname her father called her by whenever he was feeling playful.

Her middle name, on the other hand, she would most likely never be accustomed to.

It was unfamiliar, the way it rolled off Garfield's tongue every now and again, like a reminder that it was a part of her. Yet, deep in her subconscious, she still _knew_ , and she still somehow answered to it, despite her misgivings every time she heard it. It was, after all, her name. The key difference was that Garfield only ever called her _Rita_ when he was immensely upset with her, or disappointed. Like the one time that she'd grown so angry with the class bully for sticking gum in her hair (her beautiful hair; her father's favourite feature of hers), that she'd accidentally sent a ruler flying in his direction, smacking him directly in the face.

She hadn't meant to; it was her anger. The part of her powers she'd apparently inherited from her mother. The parts of her that, unfortunately, left her father reeling. He simply could not help her control them, and he was terrified that one day, she'd outgrow any advice he could offer her. Advice her mother would have been much better suited to giving.

On that day, Garfield had been called in to the school immediately, as it had left a nasty red welt on the crying child's face, and Asha had been sent to the principal's office where she was effectively chastised for her retaliation. The bully's parents had been notified, and when her father had finally shown up, winded and unsuspecting, and no doubt thinking the worst, Asha could not meet his eyes. Instead, she stared at her feet the entire time, all the while she could hear him from beyond the closed door, apologizing profusely for her behaviour.

That night had been long and awful.

Garfield had had a hard time looking at her throughout the entire quiet car ride home, and the remainder of the day. After Asha had gone to bed, she woke up in the middle of the night to the dull sound of her father sobbing through the paper-thin walls between their bedrooms.

" _I can't do this without you…I can't…"_

He had repeated it in between painful, wretched cries that wracked his entire body, and Asha knew, no matter how hard he tried to be quiet, that he was talking about _her_.

Once upon a time, Asha had been told that she was a gift. That she had been the best present her father could have asked for, from her mother. However, that night, she had felt more like a _curse_ to Garfield Logan than anything else…

In the morning, he'd come to forgive her of course. His eyes had been bloodshot, and it was evident that he hadn't slept a wink, but he'd forgiven her. Garfield was not a man to hold grudges for long, especially against his own child. She promised she would try and keep better control over her powers at school, and he promised he would try and be there for her as much as possible.

However, incidents like that were always bound to happen again, especially when considering all the stories about her mother's struggles with control…

Apparently, Asha would come to learn the hard way that she had earned that trait from her as well…

* * *

Perhaps, somehow in the back of her mind, Asha had known that it was a bad idea to have focused her energy so much while on her playdate with Mar'i. Like there'd been a small voice of warning in the back of her head, trying to prepare her for the outcome if she ever allowed her emotions to get carried away. Even then, she had no way of knowing, no way of stopping it. What was to happen, was bound to happen, like the inevitable twist of fate.

"You look tired, Gar," Dick could be heard saying in the background.

The two men were seated at the dining table by the kitchen, beverages in hand, while their two daughters played in the living room.

Mar'i had a large collection of dolls and toys, far more than Asha could ever dream of owning, and her dollhouse was of enviable proportions. Garfield had said that it had been a generous birthday gift from Batman himself, but Asha couldn't tell if he was just pulling her leg.

"It's been a long day," Garfield explained heavily, eyes downcast.

Dick's mouth became a tight line. "It seems _every_ day has been a long day, Gar." There was a moment of silence between them, with Garfield unable to refute what was undeniably true. Dick then added in a far more light-hearted tone; "You know, there's this councillor who works at Mar'i's school. Real pretty, older, mature. I'm pretty sure she's single, too."

Garfield groaned and rolled his eyes. "Not you, too, Dick. It's bad enough I have Vic and Kory on my butt, I don't need this from you. I'm not interested…"

The girls' giggles filtered through from the room over, and Mar'i had given Asha the prettiest doll she owned. "Here; you can be the princess, and I'll be the bad guy!" She brought out a giant, green T-Rex toy and made it stomp all over the floor, knocking down their set-up and making Asha smile.

"Gar, you have to move on eventually. It's what Raven would have wanted. That little girl, she deserves a mother. _You_ deserve to be happy," Dick pressed, concern laced in his gruff tone.

The changeling ran a shaky hand through his hair, trying not to grow upset with one of his oldest friends. "How could I do that to someone, Dick? How could I lie to them? Just so Asha has a nuclear family, and I have someone to share my bed? To hell with that! I was raised among all kinds of people, and each one of them was family to me. She'll be _fine_." He drifted off, his fingers tapping nervously along the edge of the fine, wooden table. "I can't give myself to someone wholeheartedly…I can't love them the way they ought to be loved…No one deserves to be second best," he added in a smaller voice.

Dick looked away, guilty. "I'm sorry, Gar. I didn't mean…I know how much you loved her…I just can't help but feel like…she'd hate herself knowing you're suffering so much…"

Garfield's jaw clenched, and his eyes hardened. "Yeah, well, maybe if she had thought of that _sooner,_ she'd still be here…" There was a bite to his words; a bitter venom he couldn't mask, and the buzzing silence that fell between them was scathing.

Dick's eyes were then drawn to Garfield's little girl, Asha, who was far too distracted by the crazy, convoluted story his own daughter had concocted to notice his lingering gaze.

"Either way, I think you've done right by her," he affirmed, trying to steer the conversation to a less dreary subject. "She's a wonderful kid, and I know Raven would be proud of _both_ of you."

Garfield stayed silent, and he couldn't meet his friend's eyes. There was doubt in the way his brows creased. Words were cheap, even if they did come from Nightwing's mouth on occasion.

And then Mar'i screamed.

The two men reacted immediately, as they so often did to any sign of duress. Their chairs scraped loudly against the wood tiles as they got up and sprinted into action towards the living room.

However, when they got there, both Garfield and Richard faltered, unable to make sense of the scene before them.

Asha was nowhere to be found.

Instead, Mar'i hovered in the air, staring at them with wide eyes, her hands covering her mouth in supressed shock. Floating directly next to her, looking as equally terrified by her own appearance, was _another_ Mar'i.

Dick Grayson's daughter seemed to have multiplied into an exact clone. The similarities were staggering, from the waves of her luscious obsidian hair, right down to the glowing green of her eyes; she may as well have been an identical twin.

"Oh, no…," Garfield breathed, his wide eyes flickering between the two identical girls as understanding dawned on him.

They were so alike, even down to the wrinkles in their clothing, that neither father could be certain as to who was who.

Garfield stepped towards them carefully, while Dick lingered behind him, his mouth hanging open as he was still trying to process what had happened.

"Asha…?" The changeling called out apprehensively, hoping one of the identical girls would betray some sort of a hint to the sudden mystery.

Both floating alien hybrids looked at one another, skeptical.

Then, the one on the left slowly drifted back down to the ground, chin tucked into her chest in remorse.

The glowing green eyes faded back into human irises, and her long, thick, wavy black hair became a straight, violet curtain that hung just past her small shoulders. Asha's skin returned to its original pallor right before everyone's eyes. She stood there, small and vulnerable and meek, staring at her feet. Her face was aflame with shame, and she knew she would be in deep trouble now.

All she had wanted to do was _fly_.

When Mar'i had whipped up into the air excitedly, Asha had watched her with an insurmountable amount of envy. She _longed_ to join her, to play among the ceiling with her friend.

And then it was as if her wish had been granted…

Only, instead of elated shock, Mar'i had taken one look at Asha and screamed at what she saw.

"She's a shapeshifter…," Richard whispered upon recovering his voice. "Your daughter is an actual shapeshifter."

Garfield sat on the floor before the accused, shaking his head in disbelief. "She's never done this before…I mean, when she touches someone, she can manipulate parts of her to mimic them, like hair colour or skin tone, but…never like _this_. Asha, did you know you could do that?"

But the girl had gone mute, so traumatized by her own body's hidden ability, she was left frozen and unresponsive.

In the mean time, Mar'i, the real Mar'i, landed next to her, wearing a look of conflicted emotions. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scream. I was just surprised," she explained softly, placing a hand on the smaller girl's slender shoulder. Asha remained complacent.

"No one is upset with you, sweetie," Dick reassured her, coming to crouch beside Garfield. "We just want to help." He smiled his charming Grayson smile, his dark hair falling into his eyes.

Asha's head hung low. She was trying her hardest not to cry, but her bottom lip quivered, and she had never felt so cold or alone.

But then her father pulled her into his chest, and it was like any self control she had left was simply vanquished.

He held her tightly against him, his hand brushing through her silken hair. She shook against him, burying her face into his neck, the tears coming down her cheeks like a fountain. Still, her voice would not work.

"Shhh, it's okay. It's okay, you don't have to feel afraid. I won't let anything happen to you. I won't let anyone hurt you, not ever. It's okay, Asha. I'm right here…," he whispered into her hair, all the while she clung to his shirt, thick lashes fringed with big tears. Once they'd started streaming down her face, she couldn't turn them off.

Garfield's strong arms enveloped her, held her tight, and his hands rubbed her back affectionately.

After a few more minutes of this, until her sobs seemingly subsided and were replaced with hiccups, Garfield picked Asha up and carried her to the couch. When her little fingers dragged at his clothes, Dick brought out a quilted blanket and wrapped it snuggly around her. Mar'i said nothing; she merely curled up next to the girl's feet and turned on the television to the cartoon channel.

Even when they had left the room, Asha could hear their parents talking about her.

"They'll come for her, you know. She's an asset _and_ a liability," Dick warned.

"I know, I know that. Vic said she'd be different, he said she'd be likely to have some sort of strange ability because of my unstable genetics. I didn't think…I didn't _know_. I thought, if anything, she'd have a variation of Raven's powers. I've never turned into other humans. Primal alien species? Sure. Mythical creatures? I mean, it took a lot of training, but eventually, yeah. People? Not even if I tried."

Richard sighed deeply. "Gar, I'm telling you this now; the League will want to keep tabs on her, maybe even train her. They won't want her falling into the _wrong_ hands. Just remember how wary they were of Raven. This'll be worse. Not only will Trigon be looking for her, but if he finds her, he'll have an _arsenal_ at his disposal. The League won't allow that, if they ever catch wind."

A beat, and then, Garfield queried in a small voice; "…Are you going to tell them?"

"No!" Dick responded immediately. "Of course not! Asha is like a daughter to me and Kory, too. She's all we have left of Raven…Like hell I'd give her up without a fight."

"Then it's not a problem if they never know."

"Gar, that's not _good_ enough. Asha _needs_ training. Maybe not from the League, but there's only so much we can do to help her when we barely understood Raven's powers. If she's left alone, it's only a matter of time before she loses control and someone finds out," Dick argued, his voice carrying.

Mar'i found Asha's hand under the blanket, and held it tightly in her own.

"What am I supposed to do, Dick?! Tell me, because I sure as hell can't figure it out! All I know is, I can't lose her, too. I _promised_ Raven. I promised her! Raven's sacrifice, it can't be all for nothing; I won't be able to live with myself, if I…if I _fail_ her…" Garfield's voice faded out, and he could be heard slumping back against the wall.

"You won't. You won't fail anyone, Gar," Richard consoled him softly.

When the quiet permeated between the two old comrades, and all that could be heard was the low sounds from the television, Asha did what she did best; she burrowed herself beneath the covers and squeezed her eyes shut until she could ignore the hot sting of tears, and fall asleep…

* * *

 **A/N:** _The next chapter won't be as long, I don't think, but it'll have some answers as well as an ending. Apologies in advance. As per usual, feedback is welcomed. Thanks for reading._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** _Woops. Prepare for some feels, guys. Thanks to everyone who supported this story! All your kind words keep me going, and remind me not to give up._

* * *

 **What You Leave Behind**

* * *

The hospital is white.

Clean, pure, _pristine_.

It smells a lot like antiseptic and day-old food from the cafeteria. Not to mention, shit and urine, but no one ever admits to that.

The hospital is warm; a choking kind of heat that can make someone feel an overwhelming bout of nausea, and perhaps even a fainting spell if wearing too many layers.

Somewhere, there are newborns crying their first cry. Somewhere, there are people taking their last breath. Hope and death; imminent and forever intertwined.

Somewhere on what is supposed to be deemed the happiest unit in any hospital, there's a man shouting, and his scream is both bone chilling and blood curdling.

It's sadness and misery and hopelessness bundled into one octave of sound, loud and aching. It turns into a wail, so tragic and painful it brings tears to the eyes of those in the surrounding area. It turns into sobs. Dry and wretched, all-consuming.

Death doesn't frequently visit this floor; death is confined to the souls of the old and the sick and the dying. Those who are weary of living, and are tired. Too tired to fight.

However, that day, death took a soul it shouldn't have; ripped it from the body of a woman who would never be a mother.

An exchange.

A promise.

There can only ever be _one_.

Somewhere, there's a broken man pleading with the grim reaper himself.

Somewhere, there's a newborn who opens its mouth to scream for the very first time, only nothing comes out…

* * *

"I'm pregnant."

The words drop like microscopic bombs, every syllable decimating the ambiance of the room. They fall from her lips heavy and explosive, the damage ascertained within minutes.

Garfield's jaw is left hanging, the piece of broccoli held between his chopsticks falling to his plate as his grip weakens.

"Y-you're _what_?" he blurts out once he's remembered how to use speech again. Granted, it's not pretty, and he's still left fumbling, his ears ringing.

Raven stares him dead in the eyes, unblinking, not a flicker of emotion held in her delicate features. "I said, I'm pregnant. About a week and a half."

The chopsticks fall next. The take-out Chinese food doesn't matter anymore. He's pretty sure he's lost his appetite, anyways.

It's like the wind's been knocked out of him. It's like his heart won't stop racing and fluttering from the bouts of anxiety, apprehension, and…joy? Was that last one really _joy_? Meanwhile, Raven brought a steamed carrot to her lips, and crunched on the vegetable like nothing out of the ordinary had transpired.

"H-how can you be so sure? A week…a week? No one can know something _like that_ in a week, Rae. A-are you late or something…?" He was speaking, but his words were jumbled, and he could hardly hear himself over the rush of blood in his own ears.

She picked up some of the sticky rice from her take-out container with her chopsticks, and took a small nibble. "I'm not fully human, Gar. We've discussed this. My physiology is… _unique_. I'm also an empath; I can sense the stirrings of a new life within me. It's small, and I'm not quite certain yet, but it's there."

Another bite.

"I know it's there because it's emotions are not my own. I like to think that I can at least discern _that_ much."

"B-but-" Why did he bother to interrupt? It wasn't like he had any clue as to what to say, or how to proceed, for that matter.

The truth was, Garfield Logan had rarely entertained the notion of being an actual, biological father at any point in his life. His unstable genetics had always dictated that, not only would it be highly unlikely, but also extremely dangerous.

Raven sighs. "You have questions, I know, but please. Can you save them for after dinner? You never did like cold veggies, and I'm not too keen on them myself. I promise, I'll answer everything."

" _Now_ you're worried about dinner? You're the one who dropped the ' _P_ ' bomb!" he stammers, his fingers fidgeting nervously against the table.

Raven shrugs. "I felt its presence again briefly because I'm fairly sure it doesn't like carrots, and was reminded. I probably shouldn't have spoken aloud, but the sooner you know, the better."

Garfield groans, rocking back in his chair, and rubs the palms of his hands down his face. "Rae, what the hell?!"

A brow raises, icy violet eyes regarding him with mild interest.

Garfield shakes his head, biting his bottom lip. "I can't eat. My appetite is gone."

"Does pregnancy make _you_ nauseous?"

"Stop saying that word! You're not even _sure_. This…this shouldn't even be possible. I thought this wasn't possible!"

Raven won't say anything more. Instead, there's something like guilt flickering briefly in her normally dormant features.

Her gaze drifts to the floor, and he slams his fists against the table, shaking the cups and plates. He stands up abruptly, and storms away. There's the jingling of keys, fabric in the wind as he grabs his coat.

"Where are you going?" When she speaks, her voice is meek and desperate, reaching out to him like she was the sky and he the sea.

Without turning to look at her, he says, "Buying you a pregnancy test. We're figuring this out tonight. If that doesn't work, I'm calling Vic."

* * *

"It's a girl, Mr. Logan!"

' _It's a girl, Gar.'_

She'd known it long before any doctor might have predicted.

"Oh…doctor Johnson, she – she isn't crying."

' _There's something…something is wrong with her. Oh, Azar, Gar. Gar! Something is wrong with her! Something is wrong with our daughter!'_

"She's breathing. Pulse is one-fifty, strong and bounding."

 _Her nails were sharp as knives, digging into the skin of his forearm like her life depended on it. Panic, unsettled and grim, was evident in her expression. She was sweating profusely, her lips parted, her breathing coming in short, little gasps. Always, always, her hand protectively resting over the swell of her belly, growing bigger with every passing day._

"We'll run some tests, Mr. Logan. For now…you should see to your wife…"

 _Her eyes searched the planes of his face as he tried desperately to read her, but it was as if she'd already left this world._

"I'm afraid…she doesn't have much time."

 _He held her upright. He held her steady in his arms, waiting. Worrying. A million things running through his mind. A genetic defect? A monster? What had they created?_

Her fingers, always pale, seemed paler now.

They looked smaller in his hands.

Her hair, obsidian with violet undertones, clung to the clammy skin of her face and forehead. Her mouth, a pale, dry pink, nearly smudging against the pallor of her skin.

A whispered apology left her cracked lips, hoarse and barely audible.

' _I'm sorry…'_

His face was on fire. His chest was sore. His soul might have been ripped from his still living body. The very essence of life, slipping through his fingers like the fine grains of sand.

Immeasurable grief. The twisting of every single organ within him. The rage of the beasts laced within the very fibre of his being, coming alive with their combined sorrow and wretched agony.

The tears seared his skin wherever they fell, hot and fresh and persistent. His jaw clenched, the muscles around his mouth aching from the sobs that wracked his body.

Her hands.

He held them like he was holding his own heart. He clung to her, rocking back and forth, bringing the knuckles of her fist to his lips, where he feebly attempted to kiss them.

He begged.

He pleaded.

He screamed.

He cried and cried, reopening the wounds on the inside of him like fresh welts and lashes.

' _You, you were always meant to be a father, Gar. I can see it. The way it eats at you. I can't be the one to rob you of that.'_

"No… _no, no, no_! It's you – it's you…it's always been you that I can't… _I can't_ …," he choked through the gushing tears and mucus slipping down his chin. "Please… _please, don't go_ …"

' _He'll always come looking for me. So long as I breathe, she'll never be safe. That's why…that's why I have to do this. For her – for_ _ **you**_ _…'_

The machine monitoring her heartbeat flatlined, but even that, he couldn't hear. It was as if the world had stopped spinning, and the room was a dull, aching blur compared to the unrelenting, bitter sadness in his very heart and soul. It penetrated his weary bones, pumped into his blood like a toxin, infecting every part of him it could reach.

A hand was on his shoulder, firm, tethering him to a reality he didn't want to accept; a world without _her_.

What did it even _mean_?

' _She won't be perfect, but then again, neither were we…'_

 _His thumb stroked her pale cheek, and her hand held his wrist as he brushed strands of her hair away from her face. Raven melted into his touch, her tear-ridden eyes closing in temporary bliss._

' _When the time comes,_ _ **please**_ _...don't hate me…'_

' _How could I ever hate you, Rae?'_

"Of everything I've ever known, I loved _you_ the most," he sobbed, her lifeless hand still clutched in his sweaty, desperate grasp.

He could barely see her through his tears, but it looked like she was merely sleeping. Except, there was no rise and fall of her chest. There was no glow about her body to indicate her healing factor.

Raven lay perfectly still, and Garfield was overcome yet again with the most agonizing realization; he'd never again see her wake up next to him. He'd never again get to hear her elusive laughter, or feel the warmth of her chest beneath his head.

The memories of her laying next to him, waking up to the sun peeking just through their curtains, a sleepy, lazy smile on her face. Her short, dark hair askew against the white pillowcase. Her fingers, warm, tangled in his own. Others, wound in his hair.

All those long, uneventful mornings where they'd stay together in bed, content in one another's company. Too happy to care about the world just outside.

He'd never have those tranquil moments ever again.

Another sob left him heaving, his cries gone either silent or hoarse as he came to terms with everything he'd just lost.

His wife was dead.

Raven was gone, and it would be a while yet before Garfield truly thought on what she'd left behind…

* * *

Asha pulled a face when she'd opened her lunch box.

The face was one of repugnance, for there before her lay the most disgusting, vile vegetable on the planet.

Bright orange sticks, small enough to be finger food, but still somehow both unnatural in appearance and _wet_.

 _Carrots_.

Immediately, she closed the container back up again, as if their mere presence had offended her.

Uncle Victor had claimed that her father used to be a junk food maniac, but ever since her mother had been pregnant with her, Garfield had cleaned up his diet. Now, Asha would be lucky if there were actual cookies in the designated cookie jar.

"Asha Logan, they'd like to see you in the principle's office, please," the secretary's voice crackled through on the intercom of the classroom.

Asha sighed; a brief reprieve from trying to figure out what to do with the carrots while also avoiding the easier option of tossing them out; she always felt guilty when she knew how much her father did for her for her benefit. Asha had briefly considered swapping with a fellow classmate, but the best she'd probably get were celery sticks, and she wasn't a fan of those, either.

Hopping out of her seat, she made to grab a hall pass and proceeded to head out of the door. The other students went about their lunch break like she didn't even exist, while their teacher perused a magazine from her desk.

The halls were mostly quiet and empty, so Asha allowed herself to relax. She skipped along, thinking about who had come to visit her today. It wasn't uncommon that she was frequently checked in on by many of Garfield's friends and former colleagues, once word had finally gotten out about her powers. One time, Wonder Woman had stopped by herself, and Asha had been left feeling utterly star-struck by the Amazonian.

If she could grow up looking like her, she'd be the happiest girl in the world.

Beautiful. Strong, Tall.

 _Amazing._

Like her father, she helped save people, and defeated all the bad guys in the process.

Asha stared down into the palms of her small hands, normal and human, and wondered if one day, she'd be able to continue that legacy – her mother's legacy, and her father's.

She frowned. Her powers weren't like the others. She couldn't simply call on them the way her father did so effortlessly. Instead, it was a lot easier to take on the appearance of those she touched. Like Mar'i.

"Asha, there's a gentleman here to see you, dear."

She'd reached the principle's office without even realizing it, her little feet carrying her subconsciously as she lost herself to her own dreary thoughts.

She stared up at the back of the man in front of her, and knew immediately that she didn't recognize him.

He was young – perhaps no older than her own father – but his hair was white as snow. He wore it short, and his brows were a stark black in comparison. Asha's expression pinched as she tried to place him among the many people her father had told her would be making an appearance in her life.

His eyes were a red so deep, it looked like actual blood swirled in his irises instead. There was also something…almost sinister about the way he smiled at her, his canines too sharp to be entirely human. She ought to have known; her father had fangs, too.

Immediately, he dropped to her height, and fixed her with an appraising look. Like a man who'd found a long-lost treasure he'd only ever heard of in a legend.

"My, aren't you just _beautiful_. The spitting image of your mother, Asha." His voice was rasped with something otherworldly, and Asha could relate it to those she'd heard in horror movies and thrillers.

Her eyes hardened.

 _A villain._

His smile fell briefly when he witnessed the points of her ears. "Well, mostly, anyways."

Asha gasped, her hands moving protectively to cover them. She'd forgotten about changing them back when she'd relaxed alone in the hallway. Her powers must have waned, and she'd let it slip that her ears were more like her father's than her mother's. Not wishing to morph them back in front of the stranger, she simply blocked them from his view with her hands.

"Oh, come now. No need to be ashamed of your lineage, child. I suppose Beast Boy _is_ your father. A waste, if you ask me. Had your mother chosen me, had she but been my bride, you'd have been blessed beyond measure." He sneered at her, the shadows in his gaunt cheeks making Asha shiver helplessly.

She glanced desperately at the secretary, but the woman was preoccupied with the telephone and some paperwork, not paying any attention to what this stranger was saying to her.

She was on her own.

Asha backed away slowly, but he grabbed her by the arm in a sudden show of strength. His grip was as sure as iron and just as cold, his fingers digging into her through the fabric of her sweater. She tried to break free, but she may as well have been trying to burst through a wall.

Her voice was broken.

She had been born at a disadvantage.

The man chuckled when she tried to garner the secretary's attention, only to have him block her from view entirely.

"Now, now. Don't be a fussy child; no one likes a fussy child. I'm not here to hurt you. How could I, when you're all that I have left of Raven?" He used his free hand to stroke through her hair, a look of disturbing nostalgia overcoming him as he felt its silken strands between his fingers. Somehow, she didn't trust the lingering sadness in his eyes at the memory of her mom.

"Did your father ever tell you how you came to be, child? I'm not talking about the birds and the bees, no. Rather, the sacrifice your mother made so that you could live?"

Asha whimpered, but no sound left her mouth. She didn't want to cry. She _couldn't_ cry.

Not while she knew that her father had faced worse evils before, and beaten them.

She had to be brave, like him.

If she ever wanted to be a hero like him or Wonder Woman, she had to be fierce.

Nonetheless, the tears welled up and made her eyes glassy, her vision blurry.

"She died for you, Asha. _You_ killed your mother. You killed the only woman worth having on this godforsaken universe. And for what? _Love_?" He threw his head back and laughed icily, mocking her.

Asha wanted to tune him out; she wanted to stop listening to him. She tried to tug her arm free again, and still nothing happened. He held her fast.

"How's that working out for daddy dearest, anyways?"

A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she grimaced, hate like a burning coal beneath her very skin.

His smile only seemed to grow, taking up half of his thin face, and Asha visualized clawing his eyes out for hurting her.

He had no right – _no right_ to talk about her parents like that.

"Feisty like him, I see. Your mother was far more reserved. Tell me child, _what does your blood taste like_?" He licked his lips, his pink tongue slithering out from his mouth like a snake's.

He wiped at the tear from her cheek with his thumb, and brought it to his lips, lapping the salty liquid like he were a man starved.

Asha wanted to scream, and had never felt so betrayed by her own body than she did in that moment. Her heart was racing and fear pervaded her every thought. Her legs were visibly quivering.

"Don't be afraid. Like I said, I'm not here to hurt you. Consider this meeting to be…a mere observation. _A warning_. Trigon will have what he wants, regardless of the sacrifice your clever mother made when she breathed her last." His free hand clutched her small chin, forcing her to meet his disturbing, blood-red gaze. Asha squirmed, tears falling down her cheeks freely now, scalding hot.

He then leaned in and whispered against her face, " _He knows_. He's _always_ known about you, Asha, and he will come for you." His voice was far more sinister when he spoke now, his breath reeking of death and rot. His words fell from his mouth like a curse weaved fresh, and it made her skin prickle with goosebumps.

"The message has been delivered," he told her with finality before letting her go. "Now, unless you wish to witness me tearing into your father's precious throat, you'll walk out of here like a good little girl, and pretend that all is well between us. Show us that golden smile, Asha."

The man stood up to his full height, and Asha found that her legs wouldn't work, either. He grinned again, but she knew that this time, it was forced – a display for the secretary who was now looking over at them.

Asha attempted a smile, even though it hurt her to do so. "Good," he nodded his approval, tucking his arms behind his back. "As pretty and as rare as Raven's. She always did have a lovely smile…,"

"Is everything all right?" the suddenly concerned secretary piped up from behind her desk, no doubt noting Asha's reddened, puffy eyes and tear-streaked face.

The girl immediately wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater, fighting off a sniffle.

"Oh, she's become emotional because I haven't seen her since she was but a wee thing. Poor girl believed me to be dead; she wasn't expecting a visit from her beloved uncle Sebastian after all this time," he explained casually, feigning human emotion.

Asha lingered by the doorway, tempted to bolt, and never look back, but recalled the man's threat and wavered.

"Oh," the secretary mouthed, fixing Asha with an unsure look. The little girl nodded her head once in assent.

She didn't know this man, but if he could so brazenly say that he'd hurt her father, it was likely that he wouldn't hesitate to murder innocent people at the school, too.

She couldn't let that happen; she couldn't put that on Garfield's shoulders, too.

So, she bit down on her trembling lip, and waited for the hellish moment to pass, ignoring the way his words still lingered in her mind.

"Thank you for allowing me this visit, Madame. I assure you, you haven't seen the last of me, little Asha. I'll be back with more gifts in the future. For now, do enjoy the sweets." He motioned towards a small paper bag sitting on one of the chairs in the office.

Then, he adjusted the black trench coat he was donning, and stepped out of the office, brushing past her. A cold chill shot through her senses like ice down her back, and she swallowed the persistent lump of fear lodged in her throat.

The secretary frowned. "Strange…I don't think I recognize him. Maybe he's an up-and-coming recruit. Either way, he's left you a bag of treats, Asha." She smiled at her, but Asha was hard-pressed to return the gesture.

Still, it was expected of her to pick up the gift, and so she did, despite her legs feeling like jelly. She'd completely forgotten about her ears, but the bone-chilling fear that she couldn't shake off prevented her from calling up on her powers whatsoever. It was hard enough maintaining the human edges when she wasn't distressed.

Now?

Now, it was impossible.

Asha wouldn't open the bag until near the end of the recess break after lunch. Instead, she'd stay seated at her desk, trying to gather her bearings, and staring at it like she could will it to spontaneously combust.

 _Sebastian Blood._

 _Trigon._

She knew those names. Heard the whispers about Brother Blood.

He had a somewhat complex history with her mother and, as a result, with the Titans, too.

' _Raven was the one who brought us all together, Asha. We all thought she was off her rocker, of course, but it all ended up being true...The others don't think it's wise I tell you all this now. That you're still too young to understand. But, I think you ought to know about that side of your family, little mouse. You should know about Trigon…Raven's father. Your_ _ **grandfather**_ _…'_

Even now, her eyes were wet with unshed tears.

 _You killed your mother…_

She shook her head, trying to get his voice out of her ears to no avail.

It was like a spiral in her own mind, consuming her from within.

Everything he'd said.

All of it.

It was true, and she knew it. She knew it like she knew her own heart.

It all made sense. Her father's deepening depression, the fear surrounding her abilities – of what she was destined to _become_.

Asha could be boiled down to just her blood. Strands of DNA and her unfortunate genetics. Somewhere along the way, the girl would cease to exist. Everyone thought of her as a replacement for Raven, and not a good one at that. Even her ears – he'd noted them – were part of her imperfections.

And that beget the ultimate question; _why was she born?_

Why had Raven thrown away her own life in exchange for hers?

What had been the point if all she was meant to be was a blight on the world – a symbol of persistent darkness and unhappiness for her father? Would she ever escape the ever-growing shadow of her mother?

Would she dare to be something different – something _more_?

Or was she also just meant to be a pawn in her grandfather's long-winded plans? Her father's undoing. A dark smudge on the heroic lineage she was meant to be a part of.

No matter what, it always came back to _her_ ; back to the original empathic Titan. She'd given Asha the gift of her life, but at what cost?

 _At what cost?_

For the first time ever, Asha found that she _hated_ Raven.

 _She hated her mother._

* * *

 **A/N:** _Updates have been slow, but I was covering a few prompts on tumbles, and have been struggling with inspiration. I have Hellfire written mostly, but it's not done and I'm stumped with it for some reason. So, have some more of this. It got longer than I anticipated, so one more chapter before we conclude here, folks. Thanks again to everyone who support me! You guys are amazing and I can never thank you enough for putting up with me._


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